


The Colour of the Dark

by orphan_account



Series: The Exiles [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Misogyny, Torture, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Narti is the best of Wasia Alaqa's children, but when she's torn from the darkness as a conscript for the Galra Empire, she has to rely on her courage and her stubbornness alone to survive. A little oneshot for the Lunar Ladies Exchange, for nicisa! c:





	The Colour of the Dark

            Before the rulers came, she never knew there was anything wrong with her. Her wasia always called her perfect, and ran xir fingers over her face, radiating love and admiration for the curve of her jaw, the ridge of her horns, the smoothness of her carapace.

            “The best of my children,” her wasia had said. And it was the best of Wasia Alaqa’s children who, in the last of xir days, wound the aged monarch in her tail and carried her to the opening of the tunnels, braving the wicked sunlight to lay the Wasia to rest on the sand.

            In exchange, she received the gift of a name. “Narti,” the Wasia breathed. And it was the last breath xie took, and Narti cupped the sand in her hands and let it trickle through her hands onto the body of her parent.

            For three days and three nights she watched over her wasia, spreading the sand over xir skin and letting xir spirit seep out into the earth. But on the third night, the rulers came, and they shook the sand under her, and their lights burned her skin.

            “Clan, er… how do you even pronounce this? Clan Alaqa, report for conscription.”

            She rose to her feet. “Who are you?” But as she spoke, she remembered what Wasia Alaqa had said – that outside the cold caves, there were men in the sky, men who thought they owned them.

            “Commander Kuvar’s regiment. We’re here to collect your conscript soldiers for the cycle.”

            Narti didn’t like their voices. They were rough and grating, and she sniffed the air, feeling the heat of their bodies as they rounded her. They were tall, warm-blooded, and she twitched her tail in readiness.

            “Oh man…” One of them whistled, and she cocked her head at the sound. “She’s a half-breed. Look at her. That’s Galra colouring.”

            _Colouring?_ She didn’t understand the word. What did they mean? They weren’t touching her – was the whistle some sort of sonar or echo, like the bats in the cave?

            “More than that. Look at the dead one. She’s twice her size.”

            “Really? That’s not just a runt?” One of the men sighed. “Who’s been fucking around with the locals again?”

            “Who knows? We keep telling them to stop. It’s how you end up with monsters like this one –“

            Something prodded her arm, and she grabbed it, yanking the man towards her. She grabbed his throat, letting skin touch skin, and he was hers –

            -and light rushed into her mind, light and colour and brightness and what was this she didn’t understand – she didn’t even realize she was screaming until she felt the sand on her face, and she could feel them moving past her, and they were going into the cave –

            - _they’re taking us, they’re taking us-_

            -and the best of Wasia Alaqa’s children lay on the sand as Commander Kuvar took the strongest and the youngest of them, leaving only the sick and the weary and the aching in the lightless caves.

            “What about her?”

            “You know policy on half-breeds. We can’t let them breed with the rest of the population.”

            They dragged her into the ship by her arms, and she got one last breath of her homeworld’s air, before the ship closed, and she knew – deep in her cartilage and bone – it was the last time she would ever be there again.

—

            “The children will be alright.”

            “We should still return to them. The caves are so dark, and they have always had a wasia to guide them –“

            “They will act as each other’s guardians –“

            Narti ignored the babble of her frightened compatriots. The interior of the craft was cold, which was good – no more of that blast of terrifying sensation that she had no context in which to classify – but they were surrounded with a buzzing purr that made her wonder what they were riding inside. Some sort of animal, but an animal that didn’t breathe or give off warmth.

            There was a sound from in front of her as the door opened, and Narti felt her brethren gather behind her. Wasia Alaqa had chosen her; still, she couldn’t help but sneer at their cowardice. Why was this on her shoulders, alone? The Wasia was a parent, a guardian – not some purveyor of the unknown.

            “The Commander wants to speak to one of you. Who is your leader?”

            …Well, Narti supposed that wasn’t much up for debate. “I am Wasia.” Or close enough. She hadn’t completed the ritual, but she was the closest they had.

            There was a snort. “The half-breed?”

            It had never occurred to Narti that there was anything wrong with her. Nobody had ever brought it up before. She was bigger, stronger, faster than the others. She was the best of Wasia Alaqa’s children.

            But, for the first time, she started to feel the difference – started to feel large and clumsy instead of strong.

            She took a deep breath. “I am Wasia. If you want the leader, that is me.” And she took two broad steps forward, tail curling at her hip in a vague threat.

            “…Alright,” sighed the soldier. “After me.” There were two of them, she realized, listening to the sound of their feet on the metal and following them down the hallway.

            “Why are we even drafting blind conscripts? They don’t have _eyes_ ,” asked one of the soldiers to the other in a low voice. Probably he didn’t think she could hear.

            “I don’t know. The old witch said something about them being psychic or in tune with quinter-whatever or something.”

            “Quintessence?”

            “Yeah, that.”

            “Okay, so they’ll run themselves into swords but at least they _glow_.”

            More words she didn’t understand. Blind – eyes – glow – She was tired of this. There was something she didn’t realize, something she was missing.

            The air flow changed. They were in a wider room, now.

            “Commander Kuvar, we brought you the leader of the species on Planet KX567. Apparently it’s the, uh, half-breed.”

            “I see.”

            And Narti had had enough. She reached out and pressed her hand to one of the soldier’s shoulders, and this time, she was expecting it –

            -but it didn’t stop the sound that left her mouth when she took the soldier’s mind, and for the first time, borrowed somebody’s eyes.

            Everything burned. She didn’t know how to process, or describe, any of it – it was bright, and loud, and hurt, and what was where and who was what –

            -the soldier she was controlling turned, had she told him to do that? And for the first time, she saw herself, she saw that she looked so, so much like these others, and the word half-breed echoed in her head louder and louder and louder until she thought she was going to pass out.

            “Some leader,” sneered a voice, and she tore her hand away, descending back into blissful darkness. There were still echoes of the light in her brain, streaking through the black that she had never accepted as anything but normal.

            “Tell me, Wasia, who was your father?”

            Father? Yet another word –

            “The previous clan mother, which Galra soldier did she fool around with?”

            Words, words, words. Narti wondered what the commander would sound like with his jugular ripped out.

            “Not talking? Kazi, hit her.”

            The blaster hit her in the throat, and she coughed, pressing a claw to her neck and collapsing to one knee as the pain lanced through her.

            “That’s better. Now –“ There were footsteps in front of her. “How about we start simple? Tell me about your species. We haven’t had luck with conscripts so far – but we haven’t found half-breeds before.”

            Narti moved her claws over her throat, tracing the shape of her crushed larynx, struggling to breathe – and smiled.

            He wouldn’t be getting any more out of her. And it was his own fault.

            She lost track of time. The others had gathered to her for help, guidance, leadership – but without her voice, there was little she could do. So instead they clustered to each other, and slowly, quietly, pushed her out. They didn’t mean to. But when all they had were their voices…

            Her larynx might have healed, if the commander had paid attention. But whether it was a sheer ignorance of the anatomy of her kind or being convinced of her stubbornness, he just beat her each time she refused to respond, and she took it, knowing her usefulness only lasted as long as he believed it did. But every time he did, she took the opportunity to steal his eyes, to learn how to see, to adjust herself to the light and colour that others lived with. This was how they lived, she grew to understand; this was the world that others inhabited.

            And with each day, the fate of her people grew closer, and yet more uncertain.

—

            He showed up some time later, while Commander Kuvar was in the middle of another interrogation.

“Speak, damn you!” Another knee in her stomach. Another ‘stubborn refusal’ from her.

            Then –

            “Prince Lotor! I didn’t know you were visiting –“

            “Of course. I only announced it a few hours ago. Did your crew fail to inform you?”

            Narti cocked her head, listening intently. This was a new voice.

            “I’m busy right now.”

            “Too busy for your direct superior?” The new voice turned dangerous.

            “I’ve had her for months and she still won’t break.”

            “Perhaps you’re just incompetent. Shall I try?”

            Narti flinched despite herself. She’d steeled herself against Kuvar’s clumsy efforts, but she could smell the cleverness of this one on him – he smelt of oiled blades and poison.

            He leant forward, lips so close to her ear that she felt herself shake. Then – “Would you like to watch him die?”

            Slim, cold fingers worked at her leather manacle, until her hand was free. She couldn’t breathe – was it another trick – a trap -  Then he took hold of her fingers, and she took his eyes, blinking in gleeful fascination at the sight of Kuvar’s face sinking.

            Lotor ran him through, pressing the hilt tight against Kuvar’s chest. “Next time,” he said sweetly, “you’ll think twice before mocking mixed-bloods. Or – well. Maybe not.”

            He dropped Kuvar’s body without a second thought, and turned to Narti. “One of my spies told me about you. You’re certainly an interesting one – all these months holding out, stringing him along, and him none the wiser.” He shrugged with a laugh. “Not that he was the smartest commander around, but that aside. Tell me – would you like to go home?”

            Narti thought about her people below. She would take them home, if she could. But they had shut her out, taken away her voice just as much as Kuvar had –

            She shook her head. It seemed to be the answer Lotor wanted.

            “Excellent.” He cut her loose from the other manacle, and she fell forward into his arms, legs shaking. “I could use somebody like you.”

            _Funny_ , thought Narti with a soft smile. _I could say the exact same thing._


End file.
